Trivial Pursuits
by michelle-31a
Summary: My version of a plotless little HP fic in the Seinfeldian style, featuring HarryLuna and RonHermione


1 Trivial Pursuits

At first, Hermione's suggestion had seemed a good idea. That is, until...

"Orson Welles."

Harry grimaced slightly as Hermione slapped her card brusquely down onto the table.

"Oh, that's it!" she blurted hotly, glaring at the serene blonde seated across from her at the small table. "You're not even trying!!"

"Sure I am," countered Luna innocently, her dreamy voice contrasting even more vividly with Hermione's as the latter's agitation increased. "You're equating trying with succeeding, but they're different things."

Harry and Ron looked at each other across the table; the look in Ron's eyes was clear as day.

_Here we go..._

"How can you even begin to say that?" exclaimed Hermione, her cheeks becoming flush. "That's the fourth...no, _fifth_ time you've said Orson Welles!!"

"That's right," agreed Luna as she stirred her gillywater. "I didn't know the answer to that question, either."

"But -- " Hermione hesitated, caught off guard by Luna's admission. She wavered for only a moment, however -- she would not be denied her rant. "But...why always 'Orson Welles'?? That makes no sense!"

"It does," proferred Luna assuredly, setting her onion on a stick aside on a napkin. "If one doesn't know the answer, it warrants at least a guess, doesn't it?"

"Arghh," growled Hermione, gripping both sides of her head in frustration. She blinked, and slapped her hands back down on the table. "A guess! Fine! But why always Orson Welles, of all things?!"

Harry noticed Ron surreptitiously inching his chair back from the table.

Luna, conversely, seemed utterly unfazed by the building seismic activity. "Well, he was a very famous Muggle, wasn't he?" she said. "He did loads of things from what I've heard. I think the odds are quite good that we'll come across him in one of these questions at some point..."

Hermione looked to be on the verge of ultimate frustration. "But...Luna, that's just...just..."

She looked to Ron for support, who quickly pretended to tie his shoelace.

"Whoops, look at that...good thing I wasn't going anywhere..."

"Oh Ron, don't be such a...a..."

"A spineless jellyfish?" added Harry helpfully.

"Exactly!" exclaimed Hermione, nodding vigorously in agreement.

"Well, this spineless jellyfish has to tie his shoelace," muttered Ron from under the table. "Oh look, the other one's undone too...these laces are rubbish, really..."

Deprived from taking her frustrations out on Ron Hermione quickly turned her attention back to Luna, who in the interim had been contentedly drinking her gillywater, holding her tall glass with both hands as was her custom.

"Luna, that's just...that's completely ridiculous!" charged Hermione. "You can't honestly believe that constantly repeating the same answer is any kind of logical strategy!"

"I do believe, actually," breezed Luna as she set the glass on her napkin, her manner becoming ever more serene as Hermione's amped up to higher levels of frustration. "Any guess is as good as the next when one doesn't know the answer, isn't it? If I'd guessed Charles Chaplin it would still be just as incorrect...assuming he's not the right answer, that is."

Hermione opened her mouth but caught herself from an angry retort, visibly struggling to keep her temper under control as her shoulders knotted up. Forcing herself into a semblance of civility, she slowly picked the card up from the table and turned it towards Luna.

"The Grand Vizier of Pharoah Ramses II," she proceeded in a slowly rising tone, "is not very likely to have been _Orson Welles!!_"

Harry had to struggle to keep from laughing. While he'd long since gotten used to Luna's unconventional brand of logic, it was equally clear Hermione still had some ground to make up in coming to terms with her friend's philoposhical meanderings.

"I suppose it was a bit of a long shot, wasn't it?" agreed Luna heartily.

"A long shot!" exclaimed Hermione, her brief moment of self-control evaporating instantly. "Luna, it was impossible, as you well know!"

"But I don't know any Grand Viziers," continued Luna, unperturbed. "So I thought it best to take a one-in-a-million chance than none at all."

Hermione gaped at her. "One-in-a -- that's...that's farcical! There was just no way...Luna, you're not taking this game seriously!"

Luna looked at her with her head tilted slightly. "That's an oxymoron."

Ron popped up from under the table. "Hey, who're you calling a moron?"

Hermione rolled her eyes as Luna looked at Ron.

"_Oxy-_moron," she repeated sedately.

Ron looked to both Luna and Hermione in turn.

"You just gonna sit there?" he queried to the latter. "If _I'd_ called you some sort of super-moron you would've turned me into a -- "

"Oh Ron," said Hermione dismissively, "she's not insulting anyone, goodness -- this is so beyond you!"

"Oh great," complained Ron, his ears turning red as he looked to Harry. "And they wonder why chivalry's dead, eh, Harry?"

Harry wasn't about to let himself get dragged into the developing quagmire. "Um, it's our turn, I think," he said as he rolled the softly buzzing dice. "Five...geography..."

"Great, my favourite subject," lamented Ron. Harry drew the card from the box.

Harry glanced up over the edge of the card. Hermione sat back in her chair, arms crossed and looking utterly frustrated -- Harry thought even moreso now that he and Ron had a real chance to overtake her and Luna.

"Okay," began Harry, "a port on the Adriatic, it's also the capital of Montenegro."

Ron looked at him in disbelief. "You can't be sirious, mate!" he exclaimed. "Where the bloody hell is Montenegro?!"

Luna chimed in. "It's just north of Alb -- "

"Hush!" interjected Hermione. "It's bad enough that we're tied without you helping them!"

"Great," said Ron, his slim hopes now suddenly crushed. "How am I supposed to know the capital of a country I've never even heard of?"

"If you'd paid a little more attention in class," proclaimed Hermione, "you might've picked up some of these things, instead of conspiring on how to break half the school rules."

Ron looked at her. "Fine, then," he said after a moment. "Orson Welles."

Harry laughed.

"Oh, why you -- "

"I don't understand why you're upset," interrupted Luna. "He got it wrong, which helps our cause, doesn't it?"

"Can't you -- oh, never mind, at least we have a chance to go ahead now," said Hermione as she swepy up the dice, giving Harry a nasty look in the process. "Three...history!"

Luna pulled a card from the box. Hermione leaned forward in anticipation.

Everyone waited.

And waited.

Luna seemed lost in thought, her silvery eyes focused somewhere beyond the card, gazing but not seeing.

Hermione cleared her throat.

"They picked such lovely colours for the draperies here, didn't they? I rather like this little cabin -- "

"Luna!"

Luna turned her gaze on Hermione. "Oh...yes...the first astronaut."

Hermione gaped at her. "What?"

"That's the question," breezed Luna as Harry took a sip from his frothy butterbeer. "The name of the first astronaut. I've never met him, personally, though I'd have liked to..."

"Oh!" said Hermione, relieved to finally have something tangible into which she could sink her intellectual teeth. "I know this one, too...it's Gar...Gar-something..."

"Gargamel," suggested Harry mischievously.

"Oh hush, you," admonished Hermione with a vague wave of her hand, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"Who's Gargamel?" asked Luna interestedly, turning to Harry.

Hermione's eyes lit up. "Gargarin! It's Yuri Gargarin!"

"Is that your final answer?" asked Ron teasingly.

"You've been watching too much Muggle tele," reproached Hermione. "But yes, it's my 'final' answer."

Luna put the card back into the box. "That's a yellow pie for you and I," she voiced in her sing-song fashion.

"You and _me_," corrected Hemione as she happily rummaged through the small bag of multicoloured plastic pieces, her earlier enthusiasm quickly returning now that she was back in the lead.

"Yes, but it doesn't rhyme as nicely," countered Luna as she turned to Harry -- he could see instantly the inquisitive look in her eyes.

"Oh, um, Gargamel, right...how to explain..."

"He's a fictional wizard, Luna," explained Hermione. "He's a villain in a line of illustrated children's books. I'll show you next time we visit the bookstore, if you like."

"That would be nice," said Luna airily. "He was like that Voldemort fellow, then?"

"Heh, he wasn't much of a wizard," corrected Ron. "Was more of a klutz, really. Hey, it's our turn, mate, make it a good one."

"Here goes nothing," said Harry as he rolled the dice, landing on another Geography tile. He glanced at Hermione and Luna's playing piece. "They're only one away, give me an easy one, will you?"

"Aha!" exclaimed Ron as he glanced at his card. "You can't miss this one: the capital of the UK is -- ??"

"Ron!"

Ron sighed and shrugged. "I figured that wouldn't go over. Right then...it's the world's northernmost capital city...think, Harry..."

Luna shivered.

Hermione looked at her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm imagining being there," said Luna, eyes closed and arms wrapped snugly around her narrow shoulders. "It's very cold...the snow makes a crunchy sound underfoot...I can make funny little clouds with my breath... they don't last very long though. Oh, there's a lovely hill and I didn't bring a toboggan..."

Harry wracked his brain while Hermione stared at Luna in stupefaction. "Northernmost...I'm not sure...Oslo?"

Hermione turned her attention back to the game just a fraction of a second too late to catch Ron's furtive headshake.

"No, wait!" blurted Harry hastily. "No, not Oslo..."

Hermione's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why? Why not Oslo?"

"I just had a...another thought..."

Luna sank slowly down her chair until her head was level with the table. "Oh, I do like these hot springs...they're so therapeutic...it's no wonder the Vikings settled --"

_Bang!!_

The table shuddered as the unattended drinks rattled brusquely. Luna's eyes widened precipitously at Hermione's howl of pain.

"Owwwwww!!"

"What just happened?"

But Hermione was too engrossed in massaging her painfully throbbing toes to answer. "Ohhhhh...I hope nothing's broken...stupid table leg!!"

"Iceland!" uttered Harry, his memory being jarred into sluggish activity following Luna's thinly veiled clues. "That's the place...the capital is...oh blast..."

"That's good enough," said Ron hopefully, looking to the girls. "He's got the country, so -- "

Hermione shot back up from under the table. "Oh no it's not!" she snapped, tears of pain welling in her eyes. "It's the capital he has to name!"

"Bugger," said Ron dispiritedly, turning back to Harry. "C'mon mate, think..."

"I'm trying!"

"I don't understand why you struck the table," voiced Luna as Hermione continued to rub her aching toes. "It's an inanimate object...that's poor anger management, you know."

"Oh just...you and your bloody hints -- no wonder we're tied!"

"I think we're leading by one now," corrected Luna as she wiped up a few droplets of spilled gillywater with her napkin. She turned to Harry. "You've no answer, then?"

"He needs another hint," said Ron.

Hermione shot a warning look at Luna. "Don't you dare!"

"Meh," sighed Harry sheepishly. "I can't think of any cities in Iceland...so...no. If I had to guess...Icelandia?

"Icelandia?? Harry, Reykyavik!" exclaimed Ron. "Can't believe you missed that! Might just well have said Orson Welles!"

"Sure, easy for you to say," joked Harry as Ron put the card back in the box. "You had the answer right in front of you!"

"Now we can win this!" exclaimed Hermione suddenly, her throbbing toes quickly forgotten as she thrust the dice at Luna. "We're only missing Arts and Entertainment. Make it a good one...a two, or a -- "

"Two," chimed Luna musically once the dice settled.

"Yes!!"

"Blimey, 'Mione," said Ron. "It's just a game, ain't it?"

"Actually, I think Hermione views it more as a contest of wits," explained Luna. "Though I think it's more one of memory, really."

Hermione glanced at her over the card. "It's...never mind," she said. "Here's the question. Who directed Cit -- I can't believe this..."

She slapped the card n on the table and stared at Luna intently, a look of triumph on her face.

"Who directed the movie, _Citizen Kane_?"

Luna gazed back at her blankly.

"Citizen Kane?"

Hermione's brief look of triumph was quickly replaced by one of equally vivid apprehension. "Citizen Kane. You know, the movie," she stated very slowly and deliberately, her tone conveying a note of warning.

But if such a note had been sent, it had clearly been lost on Luna. "Citizen Kane," she mused thoughtfully. "It sounds rather apocalyptic...I've never heard of it."

Hermione looked aghast. "Well, just...take a guess, then!"

"All right," agreed Luna heartily. "My guess is...Alfred Hitchcock?"

The silence around the table was deafening.

Harry's two female friends were gazing at each other with expressions that could not be more different: Luna with wide-eyed innocence, Hermione's with daggers shooting from her eyes.

"Um, maybe if -- "

"You're doing this on purpose," said Hermione in a whisper. "You're trying to drive me mad, just say it."

"I take it that was the wrong answer, then?"

"Wrong answer!" blurted Hermione. "For all the -- Alfred Hitchcock! Whatever happened to Orson Welles?!"

"Well, you became very agitated last time," stated Luna. "So all guesses being equal, I picked one that wouldn't upset you so much."

"Or so you thought," added Harry.

"Are we having fun yet?" asked Ron.

"I swear," said Hermione in exasperation as she slouched back in her chair, "you're not happy unless you're aggravating me!"

"Well, you're not happy unless you're aggravated," countered Luna airily.

Hermione drew in a sharp breath, an expression of utter shock on her features -- Luna couldn't have evoked a greater reaction if she'd clambered atop the table and solemnly proclaimed her allegiance to the Ministry of Magic.

"That's -- that's not true!" protested Hermione, her shoulders tightening up defensively.

"Sure it is," said Luna, her voice utterly devoid of malice or ill-will. Given the source, Harry knew it was a simple statement of fact -- or more delicately, one of Luna's uncomfortable truths.

"Ron, tell her...tell her that's nonsense!"

"Who, me?" said Ron in an exaggerated monotone voice. "Love to help, but apparently I'm too obtuse to follow the conversation...duhhhh..."

"But...but..."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, I might tell you," said Luna consolingly. "Some people get their kicks from arguing. It's a thrill of sorts, like gorilla-snout-punching was in the Congo a few decades ago..."

Harry drew up from the table as a mechanical buzz rang out from the kitchen. "Hang on, I just have to go check on the roast," he said, glancing at a very flustered-looking Hermione. "Best to be safe...that oven's an antique."

"I'll go help," said Ron as he and Harry retreated into the kitchen. "Those roasts are finnicky buggers..."

Harry shut the timer and popped the oven door open a hand's width. A few light stabs of a spork told him the roast was coming along nicely.

"Speaking of roasts, that was almost turning into one, don't 'cha think?" asked Ron as he rinsed out his goblet. "I mean, we alI know Hermione likes to argue, but blimey..."

"Oh, you know Luna," said Harry, giving the creamed corn a few stirs, "she'll never be one to gloss things over. I guess sometimes she could give Emily Post fits, but she really doesn't mean any harm -- "

"Yeh, I know," acknowledged, scratching his head. "I s'pose I should know that by now -- been five years now, after all -- "

"Six," corrected Harry.

" -- six, right...just that...well..."

Harry turned around. "What?"

Ron shifted slightly, his demeanour hesitant.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to bite your head off," prodded Harry. "Out with it."

"Well...it's just that...some of what she says really gets to Hermione, sometimes. She puts more weight on Luna's opinion that she'll admit...but I can tell, y'know?"

Harry nodded slowly; he knew full well the profound friendship that had come to exist between the two very different young women.

"That's what surrogate sisters will do, I guess," he said with a sigh. "They spend enough time together, you'd think she'd get used to it...remember that time with the Queen?"

"Are you kidding?" asked Ron, his expression one of amused recollection. "I don't think I've ever seen Hermione so irate, blimey...If Remus hadn't been there to unruffle her feathers -- "

"And look at them now," interjected Harry. "They've come a long way, don't you think?" he added as he reduced the oven's heat by a quarter turn, the old mechanical knob creaking in protest. "Look, I don't know how many time Luna's told me how much she adores Hermione...don't worry about it. They'll always have their little hiccups."

"I s'pose," said Ron thoughtfully. "I guess if -- "

He was cut off by a chorus of giggles emanating from the other room.

"See?" said Harry, grinning. "Nothing to worry about. C'mon, we just have time to finish the game before dinner..."

Hermione was still giggling intermittently as they sat down at the table. Harry and Ron looked at each other in surprise -- Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Hermione so infected with titter. Luna, on the other hand, was serenely stirring her gillywater, an expression of content satisfaction gracing her pale features.

"So tell me, Harry," began Hermione, her words bubbly with merriment, " whatever made you decide to moon the cheetas?"

"Eh??" blurted Harry, subconsciously shifting his backside in his chair. Luna wouldn't have told Hermione about his embarrassing escapade...would she?

"You did _what_??" asked Ron incredously.

"Harry's not very fond of cats, you see," chimed Luna, bobbing the onion in her drink up and down on the end of her stick. "I did advise against mooning them, though...they're quite fast."

Hermione couldn't hold it in. She burst into laughter.

"Bloody Hell, Harry," said Ron with an expression mixed of equal parts amazement and disbelief, "that's something I'd see Fred and George doing! Bugger, guess you'll always have scars somewhere, eh?"

"Great. Is nothing sacred?" lamented Harry as Luna looked at him innocently.

"I'm sorry, Harry, I wasn't aware it was a secret," said Luna. "I suppose I shouldn't tell her about your amorous orangutan, then..."

"Your _what_??" blurted Ron as Hermione let go a renewed shriek of laughter, holding her stomach and sliding down in her chair. "Harry, Mate, you've got issues...an orangutan?? Well, at least it wasn't a baboon!"

The raucous laughter exploded into stereo as Luna joined Hermione in her cacophony. Brown and silver eyes fixed on Harry and swam in tears of mirth.

"Now look," he protested, "don't even think – "

"Was it...good for _you_?" gasped Hermione in between breathless cackles.

Harry slouched back in his chair. He briefly thought to explain the mitigating circumstances behind his actions, but the sight of Hermione practically delirious with glee quickly made him reconsider.

However...there was no reason why he had to be the sole object of Hermione's hilarity.

"Did I ever tell you about that time in Vienna when Luna thought a mime was being attacked by Tri-Venomed Frigalumps? I'll tell you, you've never heard a mime scream so loud..."


End file.
